Tales From The Lost World

The Gift

The tiny dragonet crawled out of his egg, squawking and flapping his wings in triumph. He was finally free of his prison. He looked around and saw that he was alone. No other dragons around.
He immediately felt lonely, but there was another, deeper feeling that was drowning his thoughts, as small as they may be.
The feeling of purpose.
He was here for a reason. Someone has called upon him, brought him to life. And not for love. Not for hope. Not for new life.
No, no. He had been brought to life for one reason, and one reason alone: revenge.
As the dragonet stood up with a newfound strength, and he felt all the feelings. Anger, hate, sadness, love, confusion, hope, happiness, grief... all at once. He felt the tingling in his claws. He felt the rough ground of the rainforest. And that's when everything started changing.
The dark blue scales that covered his body got darker, and darker, until they were so dark that light itself seemed to stray away from it. The Nightwing's fire extinguished, and was replaced by many more powers, created by a heart as dark as night. And finally, the eyes clouded over and turned blood red. And he knew his name. Shadowseeker, that's what he is called.
He wasn't named by his parents, if he even had any. He wasn't named by the stars, for he did not believe in them. He was named by the dragon who had just died. A powerful soul, one who doesn't give up and die. One with multiple backup plans.
And he was one of them.
A King was defeated, and in his place, this dragonet had hatched.
And in that moment, thousands upon thousands of images flew through Shadowseeker's head.

An old Nightwing, telling him how much of a failure he was.
A beautiful, young Nightwing dragoness helping him to his feet after being beaten by his father.
A scroll burning on the street.
A dead body floating down the river.
Blood on his talons.
Hopeful, crimson eyes, staring into his own.
A new world, full of possibilities.
A dragonet, asking him why they're the only dragons that look like this.
A cell covered in scratches.
The pain in his head.
The death of a partner.
The start of a war.
A daughter with potential.
A group of dragonets arriving at his doorstep.
Fire, frostbreath, plasma, and lightning beating him down.
The flash of light, then darkness.

Shadowseeker looked through these memories, his emotions flying all over the place. This wasn't random... he came into this world for a reason. He didn't have parents, or a family. He was enchanted. He was artificial.
The memories of Ghost filled his mind, eating him up from the inside. Ghost had created him, from a promise, thousands of years ago.
"Once I die, the Nightwing tribe will receive the gift of an animus dragonet. He will be loyal to his tribe and do whatever his queen wishes. This is my atonement."
Little did they know, that Ghost wasn't a complete liar. He only bent the truth to his will.
This dragonet wouldn't be loyal to the Nightwing queen. Or any queen, for that matter. He would be loyal to only one dragon.
Ghost. Or, rather...
The dragonet lay down, back on the forest floor. He closed his eyes and went to sleep. He would be woken up when he was needed.
If Assassin didn't do her work correctly, then Shadowseeker... no, Lord Shadowseeker, would finish the job.
Shadowseeker wasn't just a servant of the king.
Lord Shadowseeker and Ghost were one in the same, two dragons with the same mindset.
And Shadowseeker had a plan in his mind, even as a dragonet.
One that he wouldn't have a chance to use for the next twelve years.
Viva la Noctem.